4
My week was spent in sublime happiness. I ate Oreos, potato chips, ice-cream, stuffing myself to the point of pain before running to the bathroom to throw up. I remained hidden in my car as I drove through fast food restaurants and convenience stores, enjoying to forbidden fattening and salty foods.
I became extremely constipated and had to resort to laxatives to keep my intestines working. If the doctor wanted me to gain I would show him just how much I could add to my already bulky frame.
The night before my appointment I was eating rocky road ice-cream in the bathtub when my neighbor spoke to me. I wondered if his girlfriend had told him what a freak I was and scared him off from our budding friendship. I didn't care; I never told him I was anything different.
"Hey," he called out. "Are you there?"
"Yeah," I answered with my mouth full.
"You lied to me," he said accusingly and I felt my hand freeze in mid air.
"When?"
"You said you were ugly. My sister-in-law said you're gorgeous."
I got out of the tub quickly, spilling water over the side. I threw the carton in my hand into the trash and toweled off.
"Did you hear me?" he asked.
"Leave me alone," I screamed sounding completely hysterical.
"No," he screamed back. "I think you're in trouble and I'm here if you need me."
"And exactly what are you going to do to help me, describe your dick to me? Don't bother; I've already heard it many times."
"I hear things, too," he said and I felt my bravado quickly retreat.
"Either you drink until you can't handle it anymore, or you are eating and then purging. Am I right?"
I stared at the wall in shock and turned to the mirror to look myself in the eyes as my face stared back at me. I saw it, for only a brief second I saw the gaunt, pale, face of a woman being starved. I looked down at my hip bones protruding grotesquely and the soft down covering my abdomen.
I began shaking my head, refusing to believe what I saw because he was the master of lies. He told women they were beautiful and desirable. He told them things about his body and cried out for them with fake declarations. He was lying to me now and making my mind believe him.
I never answered his question and he soon got caught up in his phone calls. I woke the next morning and instead of going to the doctor I put on my running clothes and headed for my usual route. I had to go slow and my toe began pulsating but I was able to finish at the coffee stand.
I walked in and saw Edward Cullen. He wouldn't know I was coming so much later than usual and most likely trying to avoid me. I ordered my coffee and as I headed out the door he followed.
"Bella, can I ask you a question, I need some advice for a friend?"
I nodded as I sipped my cup. "What is the appeal to running? Is it for your health or the runners high, what?"
"I started running for my health, now I just like it," I lied.
"Do you know anyone who exercises to the extreme?" he asked.
I stared directly into his beautiful face and said, "No, I don't."
"I know someone who I think is obsessed with dieting. I just don't know what to do about it," he said with a worried face.
"Why do anything?" I asked wondering why he would interfere with something the person was most likely being begged to do.
"Yeah, you're right, it isn't any of my business."
I began backing up to get out of anymore conversation with him when someone came from behind me to join Edward. I stared at the gorgeous blonde I had talked to outside of my neighbor's door, his sister-in-law, he had called her.
"Hi," she said to me with a smile and I watched her take hold of his arm. Edward couldn't be her husband; he had asked me on a date.
"This is Rosalie, my sister-in-law," he said to introduce us.
My mouth fell open and I stared at him with wide eyes. I could see her mouth forming words but the loud sound of blood rushing from my head kept them silent to me. Edward's head turned slowly to look at me as the realization settled on him who I was. He paled, too.
Nothing made sense; he was Carlisle Cullen's son, living in a tiny downtown flat, making money by talking anonymous women through their orgasms.
His eyes fell to the cement and it was the action I was waiting for. I turned and ran. I was embarrassed, humiliated, and wondering if we could just return to the pretend ignorance of the other person existing.
I still had no idea I was the friend he was asking about.
I wasn't sure if I could remain in the apartment if he wanted to talk through the wall so I showered and dressed before logging onto my computer. I never heard him return and worked through my lunch hour since I had logged on so late.
By the time I finished for the day I wanted to be gone when he came back for his calls. I decided to see a movie, and didn't care if it wasn't a love story. I got my purse and headed out the door.
I locked my apartment and spun around bumping right into Edward Cullen's chest. "It's about time," he said.
I used my hands to push him back out of my personal space and glanced at his face.
"I didn't think you were ever going to leave," he explained.
"You were waiting for me?" I asked in shock.
"Yes, I'm taking you to dinner."
"I ate," I said and let my eyes fall to the ground as usual.
"Well, I'm going to feed you more than air," he said and took hold of my arm.
I pulled back and he stopped to look down where he was just touching me. "My God, you wear layers," he observed.
"I get cold," I said and he reached out to lift up my sweatshirt.
I froze in shock at his boldness and he grabbed the belt loop of my jeans. "Look at this Bella, look at how big these are."
There it was, there were the words I knew were coming. He made me stand right in front of him as he commented on the large size of my jeans. I slapped his hand away angrily. "Bigger the better, remember; only voluptuous women know how to please a man."
"Voluptuous, are you fucking kidding me," he said with wide eyes.
"I know it's a lie," I said as tears began to fall. "Those were your words I was using."
His jaw grew tight and his eyes narrowed as if he was struggling with some sort of decision. He finally grabbed my arm and marched easily back to his front door.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"I'm showing you something."
He unlocked his door and pushed me inside. I expected it to be dark and seedy looking with lava lamps and cigars burning in large ashtrays. It was clean and modern, with a flat screen television hooked to the wall. I instantly wondered why he didn't use it more often. My fantasy stars would look incredible in high definition.
He took my hand in his as I stared at my surroundings dumbly and pulled me into his room. My eyes went strait to the pictures, graphic pictures, photographs of women in seductive pornographic poses stuck all over the wall.
He ripped a few down and handed them to me. "This is voluptuous."
The women were large, but they weren't looking at the ground trying to keep the comments from coming for them. They were smiling, and posing, and trying to be sexy for the camera. They were beautiful.
"I could never do this," I said in a whisper and held the pictures out for him without looking up.
"Do what, eat?"
My eyes snapped up and I threw the pictures hatefully at him and turned to leave. He jumped in my way and blocked the door, making me truly afraid.
"I didn't show you those for the poses," he tried to explain. "I showed you what women with meat on their bones look like."
"You think I don't know," I screamed. "I was three hundred and thirty-four pounds when I graduated from high school. I know, Edward, I know exactly what it looks like. I don't want your lies about how appealing I am when I hear the truth screamed at me through car windows."
"You're not appealing," he said to cut me like a knife. "You look emaciated. You look skeletal. You look starved. What other word can I use that you'll dismiss? Tell me what I can say that you can twist to be offensive and mean you're fat?
"Stop," I said and backed away from him.
"Your jeans are too damn big for your body that was what I meant. You wear layers so people can't tell you are about to waste away. You are on the fucking treadmill constantly and spent more time vomiting this week than actually eating.
"This means nothing to you," I said with a shaky voice. "You're nothing but a bottom feeder on society."
"You know nothing about me," he said as he worked to contain his anger.
I waved my hand at the wall of naked women and laughed cynically. "I know everything about you."
He didn't stop me as I walked past him. He stood perfectly still with his shoulders slumped in defeat. He was nothing more than a pornographer and tried to make me believe his lies. I was almost to the front door when he called out.
"Who should I call?"
I looked back to see if he was talking to me, since I didn't understand his question.
"When you die and your body begins to rot, and the police breakdown your door to remove the stench, who should I notify?"
I shook my head with distain and spoke with a clear voice, "You just don't get it. There isn't anyone to call."
I slammed his door as I left. That was my one and only trip into someone's apartment other than my own. It was the one and only time I had ever been in a man's bedroom. It was also the one and only time anyone had ever considered me a friend.
I drove to the theater and bought a ticket to the next movie starting. I stood in line for some popcorn, keeping my head lowered and singing song lyrics in my head so I couldn't hear the rude comments from the men taking their perfect women on dates, praying they never looked like me.
I took my bucket and my drink and sat on the very back row. I watched as people filled in the seats as they cuddled and chatted. My hand moved effortlessly from the bucket to my mouth, but I drank sparingly, so I wouldn't have to make my way down the aisle to the bathroom. I would wait until the entire theater cleared before coming down from my perch.
The movie was a love story after all. The hero loved the woman who ran through jungles and never broke into a sweat; she swam in tiny bikinis and kept her make-up perfect. He was able to pick her up and carry her for long distances, and make love to her against a wall as his large body covered hers.
There was never a movie where the man loved a woman for her personality or wanted pictures of her large body lying seductively across the bed. I saw a young couple in front of me kissing passionately and wondered if he would still love her when she looked like the women on Edward's wall or if he would leave her and search for the heroine on the screen who didn't exist.
I waited for everyone to leave and made the lonely trek to my car and drove home. I knew Edward would be busy with his calls, but I tiptoed up the stairs and quietly opened my apartment door. I left the lights off and stripped off the layers and climbed silently into bed.
He was in his bed, talking softly. I didn't dare adjust my body to get comfortable in case the bed squeaked. I could hear him clearly.
"I feel like I'm going insane, Jaz. I don't even know her but I'm drawn to her. I thought she was two different people and each one had such a pull for me. I'm mesmerized by her."
Surely he wasn't talking about me; it had to be some other person he knew as Edward Cullen and as the sex phone guy.
"You manage to do it, I could, too"
I wanted to ask him if he was talking about lying, because he surely managed to do it already.
"Talking to these women is starting to make me physically ill, especially knowing she can hear me. I wish there was some way to quit."
My interest was piqued. He sounded like he was being forced into his occupation and I wondered if he owed money to someone or would be killed by some online pimp if he walked away. I was imagining all sort of covert situations when his phone rang. I hadn't realized he was talking on his cell.
"I have to get that call," he said with a sad voice. "Thank God, she's not home."
Me, he was talking about me, he was mesmerized by me, and he was lying to a friend about me.
He answered the ringing phone and said, "I've been waiting all night for you, are you wet for me?"
My eyes became blurred by tears and I felt sick. I felt betrayed by his confession to the Jaz person, and then his immediate ability to speak graphically to another woman. I wondered what else he did when he thought no one was around to hear.
5
I dreamed of Edward Cullen. I was lying in his arms as he told me I was beautiful and my body turned him on. I smiled as he touched my flesh without cringing and recited poetry in my ear. He begged me to believe him and let him love me. I agreed and he kissed me, like the boy in the theater, with love and unrestrained desire. I wanted him to know what it meant to me and professed my love loudly.
Echoing laughter rang out and I sat up, totally naked, to see we were on a stage with the curtain open, performing for a full audience. I looked over at the only man to offer me physical love and he was laughing as he held his hands up in abhorrence.
"I knew you would never love me," I told him through his laughter. "You lied to me, and my heart knew it."
My eyes shot open and I was gasping for air. I sat up and looked around the familiar room, finding an audience nowhere in sight. I stumbled from my bed and got a drink of water. I made my way back to the dark room and felt a shiver when I got back into bed.
"You're wrong, Bella," he said with his mouth against the wall.
"About what?" I asked with irritation.
"I could easily love you, and I would never lie to you."
My heart skipped a beat and I held still as I tried to remember if I had actually dreamed the whole thing.
"Bella?" he called out and I wanted to answer him so badly. I wanted him to be my phantom coming in the night begging me to love him, but even that opera demanded a beautiful Christine.
"No," I said and placed my ear buds in my ears and let the music sing me to sleep.
I woke up and felt the need to run extra long because of the gorging of popcorn the night before. I dressed and grabbed a water bottle, but when I opened the door Edward was waiting, wearing his own running clothes.
I smiled knowingly. He smoked, he worked until the early morning hours, and he had on sneakers instead of running shoes.
"Who do I call?" I asked as I walked past him to stretch.
"What?" he asked.
"When you fall to the pavement from smokers cough, and the ambulance has to give you one hundred percent oxygen as they rip the blisters from your feet, who do you want me to notify?"
He laughed and it made me smile. I was glad he was walking behind me and didn't notice.
"Don't worry, they'll call you," he teased and I looked back to roll my eyes at him.
I wondered for a moment what the women would actually do if someone else answered their calls. Was it specifically Edward they wanted or would any voice in the dark do?"
I began stretching as he sat on the curb and waited. I was sure he would be cramping after the first mile. I put in my ear buds and turned the music up loud so I wouldn't have to talk to him and took off. He followed right next to me as if it took no effort at all.
By the time we arrived at the coffee shop my toe was killing me and he was still even with my pace. I realized it was stupid to think I would be in better shape than he was. What man couldn't keep up with a woman who ran to get rid of extreme popcorn consumption? He could probably walk and keep pace with me.
I slowed to a jog and then to a walk. He punched my arm and smiled widely, but I looked away before he could see my tears. He finally noticed my limp and asked, "Did you pull a muscle?"
"No, I have a broken toe," I said to use as an excuse.
"You just ran at that speed with a broken toe?"
"Yes, and just so you know it is my usual speed, so keep your insults to yourself."
I was walking with my hands on my hips as my heart rate slowed and he reached out to grab onto my elbow and pulled me to a stop.
"Do you actually listen to what people say, or do you have conversations in your own head?"
"I don't know, Edward; people usually don't talk to me."
He stared for a moment and shook his head, "I'm talking to you."
"And why exactly is that, I didn't call and I'm not paying you," I said to lash out and the hurt I caused was instantaneous.
He moved as if I had shoved him away from me and quickly turned his back and walked toward his apartment. I got my coffee and headed home to log into work. It was an exceptionally busy day with people making Christmas travel arrangements far in advance.
I wondered what it would be like if I showed up for the holidays. My parents hadn't seen me since I lost the weight and I wondered if they would notice or if I would have to tell them. I couldn't see the disappointment in my mother's eyes. I would have to wait until I lost more weight before I could decide to come home.
At noon I logged off just as the doorbell rang. I opened it to find a pizza delivery. "I didn't order that," I said in a panicked voice.
"I did," Edward said and took it from the boy's hands and walked inside my apartment.
"Somebody owes me fourteen bucks," the kid said and I grabbed my purse in anger and handed him a twenty before shutting the door.
Edward tossed the pizza on the table and then turned to look around my apartment. His eyes stopped at the walker, elliptical and cycle. "Did you find a fire sale at a gym?"
"Take the pizza and leave," I said in anger.
"I respect the fact you lost weight, Bella. It shows you have a lot of inner strength, but you're mentally stuck inside the girl you used to be. Life should be fun now, this is your only shot at being young and adventurous, but you are missing out by refusing to see the truth."
"Truth, you're going to speak to me about truth," I asked with raised eyebrows.
"I'm an actor, not a liar," he said to qualify his actions and I laughed. He narrowed his eyes and everything exploded out of him.
"Fine, you want honest, I'll give you honest. I hate what I do, the women make me sick to my stomach, and I worry about becoming so disgusted by them that I will never be able to make love to a woman again. I feel cheap and dirty and the money makes me feel like a whore. But then I look at you, dressed in clothes too big, layer upon layer, with wrists so small I worry that I will break them, and my body comes alive. You make me laugh, and not at you, but by the witting things you say. You inspire me to stop smoking and get in shape. But the thing that consumes me, eats away at me day and night, is why can't you see how great you are?"
I stared at his face, pleading with me to give him just a bit of insight so he could figure out the puzzle right in front of him. My soul was screaming for me to let him in, let him see what I knew to be the truth, so someone could finally understand.
"You have it easy," I began. "You can refuse to answer the phone if it gets to be too much. I had to hear the remarks, and the laughter, and the teasing. I had food thrown at me in the cafeteria and called cow, and pig, and horse. My only friends were kids who were forced to work with me on school projects. I stood in my underwear in front of doctors and therapists and was sent to fat camps as my mother cried over what she produced. I hid food in baggies in the toilet tank, because when it got dark and the only thing to occupy my mind was my own voice, I needed something to ease the pain. But it was never enough; I needed food like other people needed oxygen. And when I finally, finally, broke the cycle, people, perfect strangers, would yell at me for having the audacity to walk in public. Men especially would laugh and comment when I tried to order salad or yogurt. They would ask me if I could even reach my cunt, grown adult men would speak to me like that. So exactly where is the fun in life I am supposed to be experiencing. If I have no sense of self worth it is because everyone I have come into contact with took it from me."
He stood in stunned silence most likely remembering rude things he had said over the years to people like me. He looked over at the pizza and I wiped my tears furiously.
"Take it and leave," I said again and he reached for the box and walked to the door. He set the box outside and shut the door as he remained inside.
I watched as he walked toward me and my entire body was shaking as I wrapped my arms around my middle. He pushed my hair from my face and pulled me into a tight hug. "You didn't deserve any of it, I am so sorry for what you experienced."
Nobody had ever shown me kindness like this, not even my own parents. My spirit which longed for this my entire life reacted for me. My arms circled around him and I let go, literally, I let my body completely relax and he held me up, keeping me upright without making noises of strain.
I had spent many hours over the course of my life crying. But the sounds coming out of me now were so basic, buried in our DNA from when we became whatever we are and however we became it. Words had not been invented to release the type of pain I had buried deep in my soul. Only sounds could purge it from the darkness.
He never laughed and he never asked me to calm down. He only held me up as I made room inside for a small amount of change.
My strength began to return to my limbs and I used my arms first to hold him with gratitude. I stood to carry my own weight and his arms loosened to rub up and down my back gently. It was too late to pretend to be anything other than completely broken. I didn't try to hide it and he led me to my small sofa and pulled me into his arms as we sat.
"I would take it away if I could, I would gladly take even one moment of it away," he whispered and it wasn't a line I had ever heard him use before.
"It's like spilled milk, you can't take it back," I said with an even unemotional voice.
"But you can cover it in sugar to hide the spill, make it something sweet," he said and I chuckled.
"I would just lick it up and gain five pounds."
His arms tightened around me and he said with a sigh, "You are such a negative bitch sometimes."
"I can't help it," I whispered.
We sat silently for a few moments and he finally pulled back and raised my chin with his finger and thumb. He stared at my mouth and I was sure he was going to kiss me. My body was full of hope and full of fear as he licked his lips and stared.
"What are you doing?" I finally asked.
"I'm not going to kiss you," he answered.
"I wouldn't let you, anyway," I said to save my wounded pride.
"I'm going to wait until you're happy. I want to kiss you when you're happy and smiling at me."
"We'll never share a kiss," I told him as I looked into his eyes.
"Sure we will, and much, much, more."
My entire body broke out in goose bumps, but he didn't now due to my layers. I sat back and he stood to leave. I felt a new pain, one most girls experience as teens in high school. A pain I was sure I would be spared throughout my life. He turned to look at me when he got to the door and said, "Will you go on a date with me Friday night?"
I ignored the new pain and nodded. He smiled and left. I put my hand over my heart and let the pain consume me with a smile on my face. I was in love; I was in love with Edward Cullen.
6
That night Edward's calls were taken on the far side of his kitchen so I could only hear the murmur of his tenor voice. I was glad; I wouldn't want to hear him saying things I would most likely never hear. I didn't pretend to believe we would ever actually have sex; my only hope was a small kiss before he lost interest.
The following day right at five a knock sounded on my door. I was still with a customer and had to ignore it thinking the person surely left. I opened my door to find a tiny woman in stylish clothes, perfect make-up and five inch heels smiling at me.
"I'm Edward's sister, Alice," she announced to send my hope of a small kiss scurrying away.
"Of course you are," I said with disappointment.
She frowned and bit on her perfectly manicured fingernail before asking, "May I come in?"
"Did he send you?" I asked.
"No, that is why I want to come in, before he sees me."
I stepped back and she bounced into the room. I couldn't remember ever bouncing into a room; in fact, it was safe to say I had never bounced into a room in my entire life. She looked around quickly without offering a disapproving glance or an approving glance and announced. "My boyfriend Jasper is Edward's best friend."
"Jaz?" I asked.
"Yeah, do you know him?"
I chuckled at her assumption that big, fat Bella would know anyone named Jaz. "No," I said bluntly.
"Well, it doesn't really matter, I guess. Edward tells Jasper things and Jasper tells me. He likes you," she said with a smile.
"Jasper?" I asked trying to purposefully sound obtuse.
She laughed loudly and I knew her brother would hear her. "Edward," she said to correct me.
I nodded for her to continue with the purpose of her visit but she sat down on the couch and patted the seat next to her. I fell onto the cushion and turned my head to look at her.
"I want your help with something, but you can't tell him, okay? Can I trust you?"
I glanced at the wall and wondered if he was listening. I finally held up my finger and grabbed a pen and paper. She wrote quickly and had horrible penmanship. It was something tiny to make myself feel superior, but at least it was something.
I read her message: Edward's birthday is coming up and we want to give him a surprise party.
I really hoped she didn't want my advice on parties. I had never been invited to one single party in my life and my sweet sixteen, which my mother was sure kids would come to if she threw it at the country club, was attended by one girl, Angela. She was the preacher's daughter and probably attended as some sort of penitence.
"What does it have to do with me?" I asked with suspicion. I had a sick feeling they were planning a cruel trick on me and I wanted her to leave.
She took the paper and wrote: We want you to get him there.
My mind was reeling and the only thing I could think of was asking him to go on a run with me. I could run to the spot they wanted him and then keep going as they all screamed surprise. I glanced at the wall and whispered, "What about his phone calls?"
Alice gave me an odd look and wrote down: What phone calls?
I wasn't sure what do say, maybe the voice of Seattle had no idea what his son was doing to make a living. It wasn't my place to out her brother as the prince of pornographic talk so I simply asked her, "When and where?"
"He has tickets to a concert Friday night," she whispered and I realized it was where he planned on taking me. "I'm going to make sure he misplaces the tickets so he has to plan something else. If you ask him to do something he will happily agree, because he likes you."
"So where should I take him?"
"My parents own a house up the coast," she began and I said too quickly, "Yeah, I know where it is."
Her eyes got big and she smiled as if she knew some big secret. "The party will be on the beach at their house."
"Give me your number and I'll call you when I drop him off," I said and she looked at me funny again.
"You're invited to the party," she said and I let my eyes drop.
"No, it's okay, I don't own party clothes," I said and hoped she would drop it.
"All you need is a pair of shorts and a shirt to throw on over your swimsuit," she said with a laugh and I was gripped with fear. Swimsuit shopping was torture for the thinnest of girls, there was no way I was going to subject myself to that.
"I'll just drop him off," I said again and tried to swallow with my dry throat.
She watched me for a moment as she chewed on the side of her cheek. She finally stood and pulled something out of her purse and tossed it to me. If you like it I have a bunch of them in several colors. I held up the scrap of material she threw on my lap to see it was a tiny cotton skirt.
"You would look great in blue; do you have a blue sweatshirt or sweater to go with it?"
"I can't wear this," I said with a stunned voice as I glared hatefully at her.
"Why, are you part of some religious affiliation that makes you dress like that?" she asked as she pointed at my attire.
I looked down and my clothes and back at the tiny skirt. She assumed religion kept me covered and I wondered if she had some sort of shoe horn she planned on using to squeeze me into her skirt. I handed it back and said, "It won't fit."
She didn't reach for what I was handing over and shrugged. "We can use a safety pin to hold it up."
I was done; her pretense at being my friend was over. She was insulting me and thinking I wouldn't know the difference. I dropped the skirt at her feet and said, "Let yourself out," as I walked away.
I shut my bedroom door but she followed right behind me, holding the skirt in her hand. "I can take it in, I'm a pretty good seamstress," she said.
I didn't care about her party or the fact Edward could hear anything we said in the bedroom. I turned to her and screamed, "It is too small, I'm too fat. There, I said it, now you can go laugh with your brother and his friend.
Her eyes narrowed with her own anger and she stepped closer to me and said with a calm yet forceful voice, "If it fits, you have to pay for manicures for both of us, and if it doesn't fit, I'll pay."
I pulled it from her hand and kicked off my shoes before pulling down my pants and then my thermals I had on underneath. I pulled on the skirt to prove it wouldn't go past my knees and was stunned when he flew up my legs and hung precariously around my hips.
"Shit, it doesn't fit," she said as she scrunched up her face and pinched the extra material to see how much excess there was. "Guess I'm paying for our manicures."
"This can't be right," I said pulling the skirt around to see the tag read, size 0.
You would think I would be happy, but I wasn't, if I was truly a size zero why was my life still so awful. Why were people still laughing at me and staring with disgust. They were, weren't they? I was no longer certain of anything and I felt overwhelmed. Alice looked up at my face when she finished playing with the skirt to make it fit.
"Is something wrong?" she asked.
"This isn't me," I said as my tears fell.
"If you want something more your style, I understand," she said trying to be kind. I had to be thin, because women like Alice would never be here if I was still obese.
"I don't know how to…I mean I..." My eyes turned to my closet and all I saw were huge outfits that fit until a moment ago. "I don't know what my style is."
She squealed loudly and jumped up and down with my hand in hers, "We're going shopping, come on."
She pulled me forward and I almost tripped over my pants which were lying on the ground. She grabbed a pair of my flip flops and gave me just enough time to find my purse and slip on the shoes. We drove to the mall as she chatted about the party and the guest list, but I didn't hear a word past the part where her boyfriend would be out of town for the party.
She brought me clothes to try on, outfit after outfit looking much too small, but fitting loosely. She arranged them on my body in ways I never thought possible. She tied up the shirts and rolled down the shorts and skirts. My bra showed through the tees and was proudly displayed as an accent.
The final dress was a tight simple black dress with a racer back, showing off my shoulders. I could see what it looked like in my mind, my large arms rippling with cellulite and bulging out the sides of the dress. Alice brought me in front of the three way mirror and I stared at the stranger in front of me.
She was made for the dress. Her long arms hung to her side without touching her torso at all. The dress naturally cinched at the waist and then curved slightly over her hips. She looked stunning and when I raised my eyes to look into hers we both began to cry.
"A pair of ankle boots would look amazing with that dress," Alice said as she continued to look at the dress and not my face.
Maybe skinny women never got attention, maybe men only looked at fat women and totally ignored skinny women because there was nothing to laugh at or make crude comments about.
I came home loaded down with bags and looked at the clothes as I hung them up. I couldn't understand how they could fit onto my body. Alice made manicure appointments for the next night and then it would be Friday. I looked over at the wall and prayed he wasn't planning a cruel joke.
When I climbed in bed I heard a soft knock on the wall. "Bella," he called out.
"Yeah?" I answered.
"I wrote you a poem," he said and my mind went back to sophomore year when a boy wrote an obscene limerick on my locker.
I didn't respond so he asked, "Do you want to hear it?"
"Okay," I said hesitantly.
I speak clearly the words I don't mean,
And whisper painfully the truth.
My reflection is fuzzy as I search for my heart,
But she mirrors plainly my only desire.
He waited for my response, but I remained silent. I wanted to believe in him with all my heart, but I had been pushed down so many times and never had the confidence to believe sweet words. How was I supposed to tell him I was waiting for the laughter and the names that I was sure he was holding back for the moment that would be the most painful to me?
"You don't like it?" he asked with a sad voice.
"Why did you write it?" I asked.
"I was thinking about you," he said and I reached out and placed my hand against the wall. I saw fingers swollen and round, but my print was long and narrow.
"Thank you," I said just a bit louder than a whisper.
"Don't stand me up Friday," he said with a voice so different from the one he used on his phone calls.
"Do you mind if I plan what we do?" I asked and felt myself smile.
"Sure," he said but sounded worried.
"Edward," I called out.
"Yeah," he answered.
"Thank you, for the poem. It was beautiful."
His phone rang and I heard his painful sigh. "You're welcome, sleep well."
I heard him climb off the bed and answer the phone on his way out of the room. "Hello doll, what do you need from me tonight?"
I closed my eyes and tried to block out the words he was saying to bring her to ecstasy. I concentrated on the poem, he wrote me a poem, and there was nothing mean or obscene about it.